


Jasmine

by TastesLikeCream



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Breasts, F/M, Female Bilbo, Fluff and Smut, Kink Meme, Large Breasts, Porn With Plot, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastesLikeCream/pseuds/TastesLikeCream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili receives his first lesson about composure and propriety as a dwarfling, far from coming of age. He tucks the lessons away with the others his mother and uncle teach him. </p><p>And then Fili meets Bilba Baggins who is determined to undo absolutely every single lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jasmine

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the hobbit kink meme: Female Dwarves, being rather manly looking, don't have a lot going on in the chest area. There is enough there to nurse a child, but it's more flat muscle than bulging fat.
> 
> Which is why Bilba's ample bosom is so distracting to the Dwarves. It's like being given a triple chocolate cake when you're used to eating apples for dessert - it's just too amazing to handle.
> 
> Bonus points: One of the Dwarves gets to touch her boobs (after asking of course) and comes immediately.

The first time Fili is ever taught about composure he is still a dwarfling, years away from coming of age. His mother is braiding his hair and mumbling mostly beneath her breath about the prices of food. It’s in the middle of a particularly hard yank that she winces and then mumbles an apology.

“Sorry my treasure, sorry,” Dís mumbles. “Was your grandfather here he would likely scold me for losing my composure so easily.”

With that she launches into a careful talk about their status and just how it was expected of him and Kili to hold themselves about others. Not arrogant, composed she mumbles as she finishes weaving the final strand.

The lesson is tucked away, left to grow underneath the guidance of his mother and uncle. And by the time he leaves his mother, bound and determined for a dragon guarded mountain heard of in bedtime stories, Fili considers himself a composed and proper dwarf.

It all ends when the round green door is opened up and Fili comes face to face with the most beautiful bosom he has ever seen. Granted he has not seen many without the coverings of clothes and attached to the breasts in question is an irritated looking hobbit. Fili does a quick skimming of the hobbit, lifting his eyes to meet the hobbit’s. Returning his stare is an uncertain smile that gives his already anxious heart another skip.

Beside him Kili is practically buzzing with energy. Whether it’s from the hobbit or the sheer excitement of what’s to come.

“Fili.” He says, finally managing to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Over the hobbit’s shoulder he can see Dwalin staring at them, bushy eyebrows furrowed in a silent threat.

“Bilba Baggins at yours,” the hobbit says and Fili realizes he has been standing and just staring. Kili has already made his way towards the smell of food bouncing eagerly. “Are you hungry?”

Fili nods and steps carefully past her, throwing a glance back at her bare feet.

Any comments, reactions and hand gestures are lost in the feast that follows. Never has Fili dreamed of so much food, so much drink to be had. It is all devoured quickly under the supervision of Gandalf who divides his time between mumbling requests for more and throwing glances at Bilba. His reassurances the hobbit is an expert burglar and will come with them fall flat as the hobbit shuffles nervously from foot to foot.

And when they leave the next morning Fili stares at the pony meant for the fourteenth member of the company, still sleeping soundly in her bed. Beside him Thorin stares at the path, brow pinched with what Fili has come to know as worry over the years.

“Fear not uncle,” Fili says quietly. “I have faith - both in the quest and this burglar.”

“Whether or not the burglar joins us remains to be seen.” Thorin glances over his shoulder. “Your mother believes this quest is a fool's.”

Fili had heard the words enough time, both from his mother and from other dwarves. The wizard however is still wearing a smile that promises somewhat safe travels. And when Bilba comes sprinting towards them, his smile turns almost arrogant.

* * *

 

Bilba settles into the company albeit somewhat unsurely at first. Time passes and the raunchy jokes and ideas of just what a dwarf could do with such a bountiful bosom stop. Mostly it stops due to Dori flashing his knitting needles on watch and a threat from Gandalf to turn them into animals. Most nights are spent alongside the Ur family, chatting quietly of the Shire and recipes. Fili’s thoughts turn from the hobbit save for the occasional worry about their cultural blunders and safety. Then she approaches him directly.

“You dwarves interest me,” she murmurs. “A hobbit was not made to sleep on the ground and can stay awake for hours listening to the jokes and stories passed.”

There is a flush creeping up Fili’s chest and towards his cheeks when she chuckles, lips curving into an almost smirk.

“As if they would know what to do with a hobbit’s bosom,” she pauses. “I apologize - that likely has my poor father spinning in his grave.”

Fili decides the embarrassed smile is worth the red on his cheeks.  

By the time they arrive in Rivendell, walking together has become a habit for the two. Sometimes Kili joins but more often than not, it’s Ori who chats about hobbit culture and knitting patterns. He learns of her family and hears extensively about Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Bilbo hears of life in Ered Luin and the lessons of a prince.

Watching Bilba in Rivendell proves to be a true treat. Fili is certain he hears his uncle mumble a few things about elves and if only she could see dwarven craft. Her moments are spent away mostly from the company; often times in the library or with the children of Elrond.

Then comes the day when his daughter whisks her away, whispering promises of a bath and fresh clothes free of troll snot. And when she arrives in an elven gown, too big and dragging on the ground with her hair freshly washed everyone casts a second glance.

“Would you mind to pass me the salad?” Bilba asks, seating herself carefully across from Fili. And dinner runs smoothly, ending with a stretch from Bilba who turns an expectant stare onto Fili.

“Would you care for a walk in the gardens?” He asks and the pleased smile stretching across her face is worth standing on sleeping legs.

Throughout the garden she points out this flower and that, explaining meanings behind and just how a color could change it all. She is in the middle of explaining Wisteria when she trails off, staring at the fountain. Abandoning Fili’s arm she walks directly for the fountain and lifts herself over the edge.

“I heard tales of you bathing in here,” she says. “I should apologize to Lord Elrond and Lindir.”

The back of her dress is laced up with ribbons, tied lightly. One of her arms reaches back and touches the knot of the ribbon. Stepping forward Fili touches her wrist and waits. When there is not a rebuffing he lets his hand drift lower and cover hers.

“Do you miss the troll snot?” He asks and Bilba giggles a light, steady sound.

“I miss the comfort of my hobbit clothes. Not to speak poorly of our hosts but elven clothes were made for tall statures.”

“What would you prefer Miss Baggins?”

“I would like very much if you stopped calling me ‘Miss Baggins’ as if I’m some sort of spinster. And I would like more if you untied this ribbon and kissed me, master dwarf.”

For a moment Fili hears rushing in his ears and wonders if he heard right. Then Bilba is turning and staring at him expectantly. Her hand is sliding out from underneath his and Fili has the smooth silkiness of a ribbon between his fingers. A tug and he feels the knot coming undone and then Bilba is wiggling, attempting to slip from the dress.

Reaching up she pushes it off her shoulders and sighs as the fabric pools at her feet. Fili swallows thickly, staring at the base of her neck. Bilba has a sprinkling of freckles across the top of her breasts. Her nipples are pebbling in the cool night air, toes curling in the fabric of her dress.

“Am I meant to kiss you now?” Fili asks and Bilba nods, slow smile spreading across her face.

Leaning down Fili presses his lips to hers. She tastes like the wine from dinner and smells of something he cannot identify, likely elven. Bilba’s hands flutter to his, guiding them towards her waist. Bilba is plumper than a dwarf; more spongy and round than square. Her skin is smooth save for the rolls his hands dip into. Each dip earns a moan from Bilba who thrusts against his thigh. And then he is touching her breasts.

Fili pulls away and sighs shakily at the feeling: heavy and round, nipples pressing between his fingers expectantly. He squeezes lightly, teeth digging sharply into his tongue as Bilba groans. His cock twitches and then Bilba is rubbing harder against his thigh. Fili swallows thickly as white bleeds into his vision and then he is coming.

Bilba hums and then is pressing her lips against his cheeks, his neck. Fili is panting as she moves down his chest, stomach and then face to face with the wet stain now covering the front of his trousers. Pressing her nose against the wet patch Bilba inhales deeply and Fili locks his knees, preparing to fall.

“This is not how the courting process is meant to go,” Fili gasps. “My uncle and mother will certainly kill me.”

“You smell delightful,” Bilba murmurs. “Jasmine...herbs and the oil you use to clean your sword. Dear me…”

“Is this how hobbits court?”

“I may have skipped some parts.” Bilba says sheepishly, grinning up at him. “I will fix things. And I hope you are able to walk.”

“Of course,” Fili sighs. “Shall we head back to the others?”

“I was thinking my bedroom - after all we have much to discuss about courting.”  


**Author's Note:**

> Writing smut at eleven o' clock at night. 
> 
> Yep.


End file.
